Fugitive
by sithmarauder
Summary: "I said I would remain with you, Hawke. I meant it." Fenris/Hawke.


don't even judge me okay i finished the game and i think it broke me.  
i'll attach a picture of my hawke one day but i was lazy so he has tanned skin and just kinda stubble and black hair sssh i'm so lazy leave me to my sorrow

i also have like a million little Warden/Zevran things tucked away in the dark corners of my laptop that i'll slowly be posting

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_**Fugitive**_

The rumours must have exploded just like the ruins of the Chantry they had fled from. _The Champion has unleashed chaos on us all, the Champion has saved us, the Champion has damned us to the Maker's wrath_—he was sure all those words and more were being filtered through the land, and it made him grimace to think about, the familiar anger at Anders' rashness flaring up in his chest before he tried to push it away with sarcastic quips to the rapidly dwindling numbers of his companions.

And that was just the kicker, wasn't it? The fewer faces he saw as each week dragged by, the way they all looked so apologetic as they slipped away from the main group, and the way he had to keep the cheeky grin plastered across his face as he fired witty "until we meet again" comments after them. When Bethany had approached him at last, when there had only been three of them left, with Fenris the only other one remaining, Arin had barely managed the smile, and he wasn't fool enough to think she didn't notice how strained it was.

"I need to go to Ferelden." She had looked away as she said that, and though her voice was soft there was a familiar note of steel in it. "I need to contact the circle there—to tell them what really happened. Please, brother."

Met with that he had only been able to chuckle and say he never could stop her from doing anything, and he and Fenris had accompanied her to the docks and watched her as she sailed into the horizon before they had started off again.

The life of a fugitive was a never-ending hike, it seemed, but Fenris never rebuked him when Arin complained, and he never thought to harshly inform Arin of the years he had spent hiding from Danarius and his men. It wasn't until they were camped in a tavern—and how far he had fallen from the mighty Champion of Kirkwall, how far he had fallen from being one of the wealthiest bachelors in the entire city, how far he had fallen after his hard work had raised him so high—that Arin thought to bring it up.

"This must remind you of your Tevinter fugitive days, eh, Fenris?" he joked after they had retired to their room, and he received one of the elf's deep-throated chuckles as a result, though the serious light in the former slave's eyes had made him wince as he threw himself into one of the rickety old chairs.

"I'm sorry," he said then, bracing his head in his hands. He could feel Fenris' eyes on him, but he ploughed on before the elf could speak, suddenly flooded with worry that Fenris would decided to leave him as well, and knowing he couldn't keep asking Fenris to stay with him when he had already asked so much—too much, far too much—from him. Fenris had gone against his very beliefs for him already, defending the mages despite his vocal disapproval, and Arin couldn't—he wouldn't—"I'm sorry all this happened, I never meant to drive us all from our homes. I didn't think—I didn't _expect_ that this would all play out as it did. Is it my fault? I think it must be. I didn't help, and without my interference Aveline would still have her post, you'd still have the home you fought for, there'd—"

"Hawke."

Arin winced again, but he fell silent, and for a moment the only sound was the movement of Fenris' unique armour as the elf shifted his position, and a few moments later Arin felt a gloved hand on his cheek.

"Hawke, listen to me now for I will only say this once: without you, the Knight-Commander would be ruling all of Kirkwall, and there would be none to oppose her. Mages are abominations, but even they do not deserve a massacre end, and it is you who showed me that. Maybe we'd all still be in Kirkwall if you hadn't chosen a side, but maybe we'd only be there as corpses in the street. "

Arin looked up before he slowly placed a hand on the elf's shoulder.

"I don't much fancy the idea of being a corpse. Might diminish my good looks a bit," he said, trying to infuse some humour into his voice. The corners of Fenris' mouth quirked. "Indeed. It would be a shame if we lost them."

Arin's face took on a slightly more vulnerable note for a moment, and when he spoke it was with a vulnerable edge, though he tried to cover it up with more humour.

"And what about you, then? Going to leave the Free Marshes as well? Can hardly blame you, really—all this walking is _murder _on the feet."

"My home is with you, Hawke," Fenris answered without pause, his voice low and firm, the familiar rumble of it easing some of Arin's subconscious tension. He exhaled harshly.

"Even if this

"Home has never been a _building_ for me. From the moment the freedom to choose a home truly became mine, you became that. And wherever you are, so too will be my home."

Arin smiled again, a more genuine light to it, and he saw Fenris's face relax slightly in response, losing some of the serious edge.

"Can't get enough of the constant danger, Fenris?"

Fenris smirked and huffed out a small breath of laughter. "I said I would remain by your side, Hawke. I meant it."

"Then let's go see if there's another poor city we can bring to its knees."

"I would not miss it."


End file.
